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Is Georgia going back to the future?

Growing up in Atlanta, I always felt removed from the southern rhetoric that was fed to most southern children, about standing firm on states rights and being proud that you were a southerner. Run across other kids from towns like Portal or Valdasta, and tell them that you were from Atlanta, and they'd look you square in the eye and call you a Yankee.

I always thought this strange, since Atlantans saw themselves as the capitol for the New south. Though I'm struggling with even telling people I grew up in Atlanta, the home of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I say this after reading an article from the Tifton Gazette.

Apparently, March has been Confederate memorial month in Atlanta, and on March 5th, Ga. Gov. Sonny Perdue gave a proclamation honoring a former slave, Billy Yope, who apparently served for the Confederate Army during the Civil War.

As a child, I remember there still being Confederate Memorial Day, usually sometime during the end of April. I remember it was a holiday for state workers. The last time I can remember the state having it was when I went off to middle school, grade six (I'm sure it continued afterwards, but wasn't something I found interesting). That was the year that all Georgia students had to take a Georgia History class. The class was clearly bias toward a pro confederate stance, the textbook focusing more on the issue of state's rights, while glossing over the fact that slavery was a major factor, if not the factor, for a war that almost divided and destroyed our democracy.

After reading the article, I felt like I had been dragged back in time to the sixth grade, and forced to sit through the pro-confederate propaganda. Honestly, I'm greatly concerned that there is still a movement--to see the Civil War as not a war to end slavery, but a states rights arguement--that is strong enough to have the governor make a proclamation praising a slave for serving in the Confederate Army during confederate Memorial month.

I hope the historians don't let this one slip through the cracks. Those of us born in the South who were raised to see the horror in the past need to do what we can to stop such racist rhetoric that tries to hide in sheeps clothing.

I seldom use my blog as a vehicle to vent my hostility towards such injustice. But there's a lot more at risk here than having to endure the standard routine of redneck jokes when people learn I'm from the south. I'm going to have to google Jimmy Carter now, to see if he had any comments that could calm my anxiety after reading about Gov. Perdue.

Family Matters

On my way down to D.C. today, I stopped off in Columbia, MD to have dinner with my father-in-law. The day was race, race race, racing almost as fast as Lisa (my Seeing Eye Dog) tries to get ahead of the crowds on the busy streets back home in New York. So, it was nice to stop off before heading into another big city and slow down for good food, and equally good conversation.

Meeting with him helped take my mind off my usual recollections on this day, marking the fourteenth aniversary of my father's death in Mexico City. I just got married this past November, and I'm new to the whole father-in-law thing, but there was something real nice and comfortable about sitting around and talking about grown-up things (politics, the housing collapse, music, etc), while at the same time still catching a bit of useful fatherly advice as the conversation turned from one point to another. It's been a long time since I've sat down and taken in fatherly advice. And it felt good, like returning back to childhood trips that hallmarked the reality that the world beyond your neighborhood was a much larger space than you had imagined.

What's been going through my head most of the night--in-between cramming for an immigration meeting tomorrow--is that community starts with the family. It's not simply where we first learn to react to something, or someone, beyond our own childish ego. It's more than being the foundation that forms our identity, who we see when we're all alone looking in the mirror, or listening to our voice echo in a room as we laugh and think to ourselves, "wow, that sounded just like my father's laugh." But, even more so, family is where the seeds for community values are planted, where we are formed into social beings who either have a desire, or lack there of, to foster ideals that reach beyond our own ego. sure, there is always the occasional seed that blows around in the wind and plants itself later on in life, like when someone volunteers for a group that ultimately changes their life view. But the heart of our fertile soil lies within the close knit circle of those who will sacrifice anything for your success, those who labored to help you take that first step, learn to tie your shoes, pick up after you so you could finish your homework in time for bed.

The family is one of the most fundamental cornerstones in a successful community. And the values a family shares ultimately dictate the destiny of future generations.

So, if we want to begin to measure community values in today's society, we need to first start by looking at families around us, our own families and those who welcome us into their own circle.

Three chords and rising

Taking the A-train downtown this morning, my IPod, which had recently been going on the fritz, managed to work the entire forty-five minutes from Dyckman to W. 4th Street. While riding, somewhere in that space of endless time between 125th and 59th Street, the White Stripes played. Listening to the sound of Jack White's voice, I went back to my days in Detroit and remembered that feeling of unity you get when you meet someone else who has weathered inner-city strife.

Detroit is unlike anyother town where I have spent long periods of time in the U.S. A ride through downtown, along woodward Ave., sends a bitter reminder to the effects of urban flight. High rise buildings stand empty, like skeletons who died when foreign steel helped crush American industry. And at night, they stand like frozen ghosts amidst the backdrop of what recent attempts the city has made to renew its heart. Try to catch a tiger's night game on television, and look out beyond the outfield wall at Comerica Park, and you'll see what I'm talking about, as the sun sets and the skyline turns to a lifeless nothing, a dark outline of buildings standing in front of the moonlight.

But within those sad reminders that stand tall for earlier days of prosperity, there is a great deal of energy going on between the Detroit River and 8 Mile Rd., the northern border of Detroit where life dramatically changes when you cross the double hashed yellow line. Detroit, more than any other town I can think of, has the most dedicated centergy among its social justice and community groups. Those who decided to stay, compared to the million people who left the city during the previous generation, have built a base foundation that manages to fill the vast void of services and assistance that the city of Detroit can't handle on its own, due in part to the lack of a tax base.

The churches, civic groups and grass roots organizers work along the silent streets, their efforts a silent witness to the power that grass roots campaigns can have.

Jack White's music has an energy that rises above his two person group. And I think it's because he's one of those native Detoiters who has decided to hold fast in his home town, while northside residents like Madonna have ventured off to exotic lands, leaving her past far behind. White, on the other hand, lives in his parents house not far from the Ambassador Bridge. And I think the energy of his surounding neighborhood is captured in his music. There's an undercurrent, like that of social workers along Cass corridor (one of Detroit's toughest streets), that gives him an edge over other music groups harvested in more safe suburban picture-books.

I guess it goes to show that even in places where life seems gone, there's an explosive energy, like a thundering Mustang, racing through the back streets. That's what I hear when bands like the White stripes play on the IPod, or any other band that grew up in pla es where the streets had no names, or at least nobody cared to know about them--U2, to name another band born out of division.

Redemption Song

Today is Good Friday, the day in which Christians in the Western Church mark the crucifixion of Christ. On the issue of community values, which this blog is trying to better understand, I find an interesting thought taken from the moments leading up to christ's death. In the readings that churches take from scripture, the scene of Jesus forgiving the thieves on either side of him is a powerful reminder that Christ's message was one of redemption.

I find this interesting this Easter season, which falls in one of the most dragged-out political elections in U.S. history. My wife and I, also, have become addicted to the HBO series, The wire. The program paints an interesting portrait of a population that is seen as evil and corupt in modern times, yet would be ride along side christ in his dying moments. Criminals are often the most shunned in our society, their voice taken away from them as paupers in a hardened dictatorship.

What is ironic is the founders of our individual states and federal democracy, those who established a constitution which prohibits felons from participating in that democracy, were, in their own way, criminals charged with the highest act of treason by the King of England. Now, of course, there is a big difference between a revolutionary for justice, and a cold murderer. However, when so much crime in this country is the result of abandonment of a lower social class by a higher social class, many criminals are seen as victims of a greater injustice, much in the same way that the authors of the American Constitution might have felt as they gathered in the summer heat of Philadelphia eleven years prior to America's founding document of law and order.

Green is cool...

St. Patrick's day came and went before I could even notice it. there was a time when I would stand for hours in the cold to draw myself closer into the crowds along Fifth Avenue to hear the drum and piper bands march up toward central park. But there was something about the cold wind today that kept me from playing hooky at work. Maybe it's my age, or maybe it's just that the Fighting Irish seems much more mellow in my mid 30s.

Growing up a Scot-Irish kid in the southern U.S., it was easy to blend into the homogenous Saxon dominate demographics. Most of my neighborhood were children, of children, of children, of the U.K., be it Scotland, Ireland, Wales, or her Majesties England. St. Patrick's Day, for us, was more a celebration of our ancestry from the British Isles, rather than some sort of political statement. Sure, there was animosity between Protestants and Catholics. But, it was more rooted in the American religious experience, rather than what was taking place across The Pond.

It wasn't until I became Catholic, having been raised an atheist, that my Irish blood turned more green than red. Moving to the North put me in contact with more of what was going on overseas, and I began to take a much greater interest in Irish affairs.

The saying of one of my childhood television heroes, Gary Gnu, taught me one important fact, that no gnews is good gnews. And the state of affairs these past few years has been good news, to see communities working together that had once been so divided.

It seems that the only news coming out of Ireland today is the arrest and detainment of those who make the news, several BBC journalists who were held by Irish police. Not sure if that's good news or bad news.

Patterson speaks opportunity and community values

Newly sworn governor of New York, David Patterson, gave a strong message of hope and opportunity in his first speech as the Chief executive for New York state. The speech, which can be downloaded on the WNYC web site, comes after the whirlwind demise and subsequent resignation of former Gov. Elliot Spitzer.

In Patterson's opening remarks, he praised the community values of his home district in Harlem. He closed by cheering the cause for opportunity to all in the state that he has now been entrusted to lead.

Patterson is the first African American Governor of New York, and the forth in U.S. history. He is also the first blind governor in the United states.

Needless to say, he is a solid listener, and I'm optimistic of the work he'll do, with the New York State legislature, who has been stalled in controversy since shortly after Spitzer's inauguration.

He hallmarked the need for community support among state leaders by having them join him in the state assembly and renew their oath of office. The symbolism reminds me of the Easter Vigil, when christians renew their baptism. It's a fitting seen for the many Christians throughout New York during this week that leads up to Easter. A large percentage of conservative New Yorkers make up this demographic. So, it will be interesting to see how Patterson succeeds in reaching across the isle once his administration gears up following Passover and Easter break.

Me The People?

THE VALUE:
Community values lost in America? March Madness takes over the political arena.

THE PROBLEM:
To say that there has been an excess of coverage on the 2008 presidential primaries is an understatement. That is, to say, until news from Albany broke this week on Gov... Eliot Spitzer's fall from grace.
If you were to say that both news cycles were a measure on the American dream for children to someday grow up and become president--a dream that I tossed around quite a bit as a child, somewhere between wanting to be Smoky the Bear and a radio meteorologist (I was a strange seven-year-old)--then the American Dream barely has a chance of making the March Madness final 64. Somewhere over the past quarter-century, we've gone from "We the People," to "Me The People. There's lots of reasons that we all could chime in on, but the hard reality is that we've lost our focus.

A good way to think about it would be to look at a metaphor that has been going through my head for some time now. The American lack of focus is no longer a social nearsightedness, but it's become a greater disease, something I'm calling "Social Blindness." It is, essentially, a focus on the "me" and not the "we." Unfortunately, we saw it full blown this week, when the poster child for the modern day super hero, who was suppose to be out there fighting crime, came crashing down like a steel rose.

If anybody should be thinking about "we," it should be those entrusted with leading our nation, regardless if one is on the federal, state, or local level. even our local council members are part of the whole community that makes up America. And when the focus has been lost on level, what does it say about the rest of our country?

Fortunately, I'm an optimist. The working parts of our political machine are still in tact. We just have to figure out a way to remove this social cataract that's clouded our view. As someone who has been legally blind since birth, totally blind for eight years, I find it ironic (perhaps prophetic) that the person to take over after Spitzer is David Patterson, the first legally blind governor of New York, and the first one in the nation that I can recollect. Knowing how much a visually impaired person needs to rely on the help of her or his community to succeed, I imagine that Paterson has a different spin on "we the People."

THE SoLutioN:
Health Affairs Blog offers a powerful call for action for government leaders and the current presidential candidates, on how the states and government have the power, now all that is needed is the will. Brian Smedley, Research Director for The Opportunity Agenda, flushes it out better than I can do it justice.

The low down on Gov. David Patterson, from the Wall Street Journal.

THE ACTION:
This blog is a response to the steering away from community values in America. It's goal is to find a conversation that will help us return our focus. Hopefully, it will help us open our eyes to what is really going on in America.

From now on, I'll back off the visual puns.